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This life of theirs is madness. Wrong and torn, something that she loves but doesn’t, altogether broken and still managing to hold steady enough - bound together with tape made out of rationalisations and staples coursing with hopes and dreams as they pierce her brain, penetrating every bit of her mind and keeping her on track - that another day continues to rise.
She can’t care about the insanity, though. Not now, maybe not ever. Certainly not while they’re still on the run.
Jennifer is still crouching in the corner of the passenger seat and sinking lower, falling down into herself and turning off, shutting down, all because they haven’t been able to find anyone for her to consume. Not that they ever could, not around here. It’s the ass-end of nowhere and rural - or suburban, as her mother would have coined it, desperate to think she’d escaped her own lonely past, and Needy never once arguing because she loved her mother, dearly, and the fight just wasn’t worth the headache, wasn’t worth the anxiety and troubled looks - midwest verging on northwest looks all the same to Needy, sliding by hour after hour because they had no homes anymore, not one for Needy and not one for Jennifer, not if Jennifer wanted to live and not if Needy wanted them both to remain free.
Police and parents finding chewed up corpses and enough evidence to link Jennifer - and by extension Needy, even if she hadn’t killed someone herself - to their demise. Their conspicuous absences, meetings with the boys before they’d met their end. It’s enough, and Needy had seen the writing on the wall.
This was the last chance. Stupidity led them both here - Needy not managing to kill Jennifer when she had the chance, Jennifer killing Chip in a pique of jealous rage, Needy going after Jennifer to begin with and Jennifer for having been Jennifer and fucking dying - and now they have to deal with it. All of it feels wrong, the whole of it is broken, and there’s nothing to do but plan and deal with it.
So, fuck it.
The town they entered was placid and quiet, and its only real places of gathering were a templated dollar store and a shitty looking bar, the both of them closed down and nearing ruin. Ramshackle looking trailers dotted the landscape between sparse groves of trees, and a single gas station lay at the western edge of town with one barely working pump that went thunk-thunk-thunk the whole time it fed their car.
The inside isn’t much better than the outside and Needy sneers unconsciously as she steps past its threshold. Some habits are picked up by association, and some little bit of Jennifer is rubbing off on her.
Small, and cloistered, but the shelves inside are filled up enough with food for her to stuff down into the bottoms of her pockets, some token bits left out for her to pay for. It’s not good food but she’s not exactly being choosey here, just taking what she can get because of the two of them, she still needs to eat. Ringing up is an exercise in patience; there is no other pace for an old woman manning the till with white hair that’s been fried off into television static and limp threads, her gaze not meeting anything. There’s the murmur of a voice as Needy shoves crumpled bills atop the counter, but nothing more.
It’s all that Needy can deal with right now. The food and caffeine pills she swiped are enough to fill her stomach, the gas enough to keep the car trudging forward, and lets them both set off again. This isn’t a place they can pull from, no matter Jennifer’s grumbling stomach. There’s too few people, not enough of a herd for Jennifer to thin down. No way to gorge herself better as she curls inwards against the hunger pangs, no way to fill that gnawing hole in the centre of her stomach. Too few necessary particulars, too little time, too close to their last stop.
Neither of them want to be shot to death - or undeath, or whatever the fuck would happen to Jennifer should her heart explode and her brains go leaking out - or figure out which three-letter agency would want them most.
Better to move on, but that means - eventually - needing to find someplace to stop, a place to take care of it and take the edge off Jennifer’s hunger because otherwise she’s going to be liable to hop out of the car and start barging through locked doors, and out here that’ll get her a few more holes for interested boys to play with.
So long as said boys are okay with fucking buckshot penetration, that is.
The middle of nowhere should do well. Here, where the corpses of trees on the edges of the plains turn into a real sort of forest, the beginning edges of the pacific northwest, where cold and wet and so different from where they’d come. Twenty miles after filling up, trees surrounding them now. Space, an emptiness that no one would intrude on, not here on a disused highway that had been bypassed decades ago by bigger and stronger roads. The blinkers click dully as Needy pulls them off to the side and down a little ridge so that they’re hidden from the road but not so far gone as to be truly offroading.
She has no desire to see whether this rustbucket will pull itself out of the muck and mud, and no desire to steal another vehicle.
Easy now, and nowhere. Nowhere leads them to somewhere, leads to Needy clicking off her belt and shifting to sit in the backseat because experience tells her that this is easier to do where she can move, or at least not be hedged in on all sides. Once settled she lifts, and her hair has been getting longer, long enough that a bundled knot catches on her shirt when she pulls it away. The snags make her growl in nearly silent anger until Jennifer moves back to help, fingers light against Needy’s sides and neck. The movements are a repetition. Maybe once a week, sometimes twice, but for two months straight of wandering it’s become the norm as they head far away, hiding in the margins all the while. Jennifer drops the shirt back up front and turns, shakes Needy’s hair out and then pulls it back behind her ears, practised hands running over Needy’s shoulders in anticipation. Fog, Needy notices, is already beginning to coat the windows.
It’s the heat of them both. But, not really.
She just wishes that was true. Maybe Needy radiates just enough for now, sitting and shivering and breathing out all that warmth, hoping that Jennifer can take over for them soon.
The body settling into her lap is cold, and that isn’t a surprise by now. It’s the easiest way to get this done, and Needy suppresses - barely, just barely - a shudder as Jennifer leans in to ghost her teeth against the column of her throat. Jennifer’s tongue darts out, fast and stable, licking up from collarbone to chin and then back down again in a scathing line, her lips sucking greedily at the pulsing rhythm beneath her skin.
Purpled bruises, lethargic blood rising to the surface. Old scars, old trails, then something heavy as Jennifer digs.
Being shredded apart like this hurts, even if Jennifer does her level best to not make the wound too serious. Needy will never say that it starts out feeling good; the beginning sucks, but it’s much better than simply waiting for the alternative.
The unfortunate alternative here is that Jennifer will simply eat her whole, finally losing it.
The teeth crowding Jennifer’s mouth aren’t that much longer than her own fingernails, but they’re all sharp and thin, and there are too many of them packed into Jennifer’s mouth to even resemble something human.
It’s piercing down and grinding into bone, and Needy can’t help but think of being fucked in more than one sense of the word. The burn sets in as Jennifer begins to push harder and lean in, white-hot right before she pulls back, letting off of Needy’s neck to lap at her, tasting and sipping as she fills herself with something raw.
There’s a euphoric brightness sparking inside the meat of Needy’s skull now. Something that’s beyond pleased with Jennifer absolutely needing her, needing Anita and her living body, needing something to bite down on and hold for dear life. Something that keeps Jennifer from losing her brain and ending up dead, killed in a shootout with police or strapped down onto a cold metal slab with her chest opened up until someone could figure out how she works.
This is better. This hurts her, yes, but it works. She can keep Jennifer. Jennifer gets to live, to feed, and fewer people need to die. It’s enough, and it’ll keep Jennifer right where Needy wants her, right in her line of sight. Line of sight being, for now, sitting in her lap and sucking from a raw wound while Needy bleeds and falls apart.
There’s a hand down her pants and Needy’s not quite sure when that happened. Jennifer is still licking stripes all along her neck in soothing patterns, but her hands are roving little monsters of their own. Needy doesn’t know how, or why, or anything much at all about what they’re doing except they are doing it , and that she wants more. More. So much, heaps atop that blinding pain in her neck and shoulder, more of the loose feeling of nothingness that seeps into her when her blood flows out. She craves the pleasure budding and growing behind her navel, spreading like tendrils through her core, through her muscles, every limb so lethargic and heavy, suffused with bottled lightning.
All of it finally releasing, exploding outwards, shocking through every nerve and blinding the world from Needy’s view while Jennifer licks her up, feeds on the orgasm and heals.
The paleness to her cheeks fades away, rises into a deep flush against tan skin. There were bags below her eyes before, a dirty blue beneath the layering of shitty makeup, and now it’s coming back to the cleanliness of just-washed skin. The pallor of her dusky, dry hair receding to be replaced with something bright and full, shiny beneath the car’s interior glow.
There’s more to her that’s changing but Needy ignores it. She’s still riding out the high crest of her orgasm and then slowly falling down, back into reality and her normal body, her pained shoulder and muscles that seem to be cramping. There’s precious little room for movement in the back of a stolen sedan, and living a life on the run doesn’t give her much time for yoga or day trips to a spa.
When did her life go off the rails, exactly? Probably after the murder. Murders. Killing spree?
The technical term doesn’t really matter. It’s enough thought for the day and Needy can feel herself wanting to shut down, mind blanking as she comes off Jennifer’s high. The other half of her little soul - because what is Jennifer if not a part of herself? Torn, ragged, full of insecurities and darkness but still hers - is getting sleepy, always seems to when it’s just these blood meals to sustain her. Jennifer wants to nap and Needy is left feeling cold and wet as she pulls herself into movement, limp with the loss of blood. The only real saving grace right now is that her wounds are already beginning to heal closed, the holes shrinking down as flesh buds and squirms anew. It’s moving faster every time they do this, and Needy can’t quite get herself to sit still and actually ruminate on that fact.
She just can’t. Not now.
She needs, instead, to climb back into the front seat and then pull them back up from their little hideaway, back onto the empty road. On and on she needs to drive, passing mile markers by until her eyes are so bleary that they hurt.
It’s worth it when the edges of towns start passing by, their bulk hidden beneath the tops of trees that Needy can’t see through in the coming darkness. Finding them a cheap little motel is relatively easy though, and a nice little pick-me-up from driving all day long. The old woman staffing the front office - her looks a carbon copy of a carbon copy, another old geezer that looks just like the one at the gas stations, just as delirious and blank as all the rest that Needy’s seen on their trip west - grabs the wad of cash thrust at her without checking any identification and that’s alright by Needy, flush with bliss at the promise of a soft bed for her aching back.
Jennifer, of course, is already hopping foot to foot, ready and waiting to head out. She’s just an excited little puppy begging for some food, and Needy can’t help but let her off the leash with a kiss and murmured requests to be safe and quiet.
The only honest response that Jennifer gives her is her lips against the rough outline of Needy’s healing bite, the scarred wound pulsing happily as she does so.
Yeah, no, Needy definitely isn’t investigating that little change. Not now, not while she has time to sleep.
Sleep! Actual, restful, sleep. For the first time in four days she has the chance to lay down and close her eyes instead of sitting piled atop one another at the back of a rest stop or a barren road. They’ve been moving slow, inching their way forward because they don’t want to be stopped, need to figure out what they want to do, and for the first time in four fucking days Needy can lay back without worry that someone is going to smash her window in and drag her out.
It’s good. Needed, she swears. Time passes by outside her unconscious mind, even if some infinitesimal portion of her brain says that she doesn’t really have a reason to sleep, that she could charge up with something more potent than energy drinks or coffee. She sinks and flows, placidly falling all the way through the next few hours with no dreams and nothing to disturb her.
Nothing at all until waking, no changes until there are fingers poking her cheek and peeling her eyes open as a heavy weight settles atop her midriff, rocking back and forth. The body atop her is awake, glowing, and Jennifer wants what’s due. Her desire is infectious even as Needy blinks the remains of sleep from her eyes and wonders if this was all still just a dream.
One where Jennifer is alive and in her bed, willing to be with her even with the threat of labels and social excommunication.
But that’s the dream really, and this Jennifer isn’t the one in Needy’s past wishes. The version sitting atop her hips is beautiful looking, if a bit manic now that she’s in cooldown from her high, rolling off the heights of ripping some poor bastard's heart out and crushing it between her fangs.
It’s weird, but it’s still more than Needy deserves. It’s wrong, but it feels too good. Mad, just a little, and Needy is prepared for what happens next.
Some might call it tit-for-tat. Jennifer’s fucked up method of payback, or something like it.
Breaking through the tough skin on Needy’s body is what keeps them both going, what keeps Jennifer from losing it. Now Needy can get the same in return. It’s abnormal to be sure, unnatural even, and makes no logical sense. Needy feels fine now, even if she’s still fighting off the last remnants of anaemic dizziness and the vestiges of a headache.
Jennifer knows this too but she’s still moving, still artfully sitting back to hoist Needy forward and then slipping, cat-like and too agile for a human, behind her. Warm arms encircle Needy’s waist and muscular legs wrap overtop of her thighs, Jennifer dutifully holding her in place as she settles back against the warped headboard. It’s a familiar pose that existed before Jennifer’s untimely demise, and one they’ve entered in over and over since going on the run. Needy knows what’s expected of her and remains quiet throughout it because Jennifer will be on autopilot until it’s completed.
Needy had tried to resist it just once a few weeks ago and ended up flat on her back, on the ground, stars bursting from where she’d hit her head and Jennifer staring down at her with something reptilian in her eyes. The longer they continue this run, the less Jennifer seems like herself, more like something from below.
Still Jennifer, but a full-on raging monster too, and Needy’s more than a little bit willing to submit to her.
Case in point; the arm wrapped over her waist cinches down, tightens almost uncomfortably as Jennifer digs her nails into the soft skin above Needy’s hip. She rises forward, pushes Needy up and shifts, rolls her arm around until she can dig fangs into the flesh below her own wrist. The punctures are ragged and simple; Jennifer is just opening herself up, readying the tap. Heat surges up through Needy because she knows what comes next, has come to view it as something just south of insane, necessary for Jennifer even though it feels good for them both.
There’s some part of Jennifer that Needy has never been able to live without, some taste or sensation she can’t properly name. Not even their curious little relationship can change that, shake it into nothing, and Needy dives in the second that Jennifer presents the opened wound. Her tongue is seeking, lapping at the pooling blood and savouring the iron sweetness. It’s a little thing, the care she gives the torn skin, but it’s enough to let Jennifer know that she appreciates it, mad as this all is. This is just recuperation, and it works. She’s always tired and broken after Jennifer feeds from her, even if she’s feeling better after a long nap. It’s the promise of these little sessions - that she doesn’t really need, not really, she could get through it on her own - that gives her the strength to endure another bite, the desire to agree to be used up.
It also has a habit of sending her into a drunken little spiral, and Needy’s always been a lightweight.
Iron and copper are stinging in her nose, something distinctly like rot sliding past Needy’s lips and dripping past the edges of Jennifer’s wrist, all of it licked up and treasured with every swipe. It’s not enough for Needy after a minute or two, the body high is settling in heavy atop her skin and muscles but she wants more, ever so needy and always so greedy, sipping and then biting, gnashing her own teeth - with something wrong there, another bit of herself that she refuses to think on, something not right about how she can feel needles against her cheeks - as Jennifer starts to writhe behind her.
There’s slick heat pouring from Needy, concentrated between her thighs. Her slit is wet and burning, thighs rubbing together as she tries to build up friction. It’s not enough. Too little blood down her throat, too little movement between her legs, and it’s like Jennifer can read her thoughts. A thin hand, so small despite the strength behind it, slowly falls down Needy’s stomach and then between the thin barrier of her pants. It’s practised, precise, and the movement leaves Needy spreading her legs and whining into the meat of Jennifer’s broken skin, swallowing down blood and bits of flesh while her face blushes full and red when the demon behind her turns to whisper.
“Good girl,” the sound tickles against Needy’s ear, sending that blush down her throat and spreading across her chest. They’re the only words that matter to her right now. It’s enough to make Needy feel like she’s the only one who matters to Jennifer, the only one, and think that killing their way out of home was nothing but a good idea.
The orgasm rocks her into bending, curling in on herself as Jennifer retracts her arm - a heavy growl exploding from Needy’s chest in protest, the action cut off when Jennifer answers with one of her own - and holds her tight. The blood in her stomach and the body wrapped around her is intoxicating. It feels good, it feels right. It makes her blush and see diamonds in every light, like she could take on the world and never be beaten down.
If this is what living looks like for them, Needy won’t trade it for the world.